


velvet words

by Molnija



Series: last night's dreamers [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, First Meetings, M/M, Pre-Relationship, but they're gonna turn romantic eventually so why would you, can be read as platonic, it's what they do best, shirab is a half fae and yahab is a measly human, this is ~3k words of stupid banter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-18
Updated: 2017-05-18
Packaged: 2018-11-02 04:36:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10937139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Molnija/pseuds/Molnija
Summary: The capital city lay before him, all busy streets and colourful shops and stone towers rising up in the distance, and he absolutely hated it.





	velvet words

**Author's Note:**

> I swear there's not much too this, it literally is ~3k words of stupid banter (and worldbuilding). but writing Yahashira banter is always fun so I can't even care all that much, especially since this is mostly a set-up for later? who knows when I'll get around to that tho
> 
> this universe has Yahashira. who would've thought? (me. and probably everyone who knows how much I love Yahashira. I love them a lot .................... but I still can't decide if I like Yahashira or Semishira better do you know how difficult it is to decide on one of these ships every time I feel like giving Shirabu a love interest?? I could just make them an ot3 but ... I suck at writing poly)
> 
> this is in the same universe as distant rondo but no need to read that to understand it! it's set before distant rondo anyway. not that it matters. (I would, however, appreciate if you read distant rondo as well because I actually really like that one. and this is a series after all)
> 
> I'm probably gonna write more about them to build their relationship? I can hardly make them instantly fall in love so they gotta have some time. idk when I'll get to it tho, so please be patient aaa
> 
> the title was chosen for pure irony. nothing about their dialogue is in any way velvet-y. they're assholes. but there's probably some velvet lying around in that boutique.

The capital city lay before him, all busy streets and colourful shops and stone towers rising up in the distance, and he absolutely hated it.

Kenjirou would have never had left Shiratorizawa had it not been for direct orders from the queen, and ever since he had entered the West Country he had started considering ditching her and fleeing to live in some hidden village or something. This was below him. He had known the East Country was wealthier and generally more pleasant to be in, but this commoner’s market hardly felt as if they had any sense of aesthetic.

Well, at least his mission was short and precise – present the peace treaty the queen had thought up, make sure they knew that it was not negotiable, and leave as soon as they came to an agreement, that being that Shiratorizawa was in the right, as always. Gods knew why Her Majesty the Queen could not do this by herself or at least send her son, the prince, but it was not his place to ask. He merely served.

The castle was hard to miss, but getting there would be a challenge, as he would have to find a way through the crowd huddling around the stands on the market. The directions Semi had given him seemed trustworthy, but required he found a way to even follow them.

If he had had his horse … It still would not have helped him, to be fair. Still, having anything to cling to other than the deep magenta cape embroidered with golden swans, held in place by a simple silver brooch, that signified where he was coming from would have done wonders to help him relax a bit. The stench in the air here did not ease his lack of comfort, either.

At least he could revel in knowing that he was living a better life than any of these people.

Kenjirou tried to breathe mostly through his mouth as he meandered through the crowd, bumping into people haggling for food, children running around screaming and laughing, and more than one cow. Why would they let their cows walk around like this in the first place?

He quickly lost track of where he was even going; no part of Bluecastle had been particularly lonely, but he wanted the entrance of the city back at least, where there was some air to breathe. This place was smaller than Shiratorizawa but seemed to have the same number of, if not more, inhabitants, and it showed.

And most of all, they were all so … _Human_.

Even their royal family seemed to have very little magical blood, and he thought it was of a witch, too, so they were as pure-bloodedly, annoyingly human as could get. One would have thought they had at least tried to enhance their bloodline somehow, but not doing so was among the most conceited things they could have done.

Kenjirou wore his half fae heritage with pride, and so did the others working at Shiratorizawa’s castle. As secretary of the queen he was expected to hold his head high, and he thoroughly enjoyed doing so, as it was both an honour and a chance second to none.

Compared to that, Aoba did not seem like a royal capital at all, despite its nickname of Bluecastle.

He scrunched his nose and looked around, trying to see past people to find out where the heck he was supposed to be going. He did have enough time to get lost once or twice, the meeting was only scheduled for tomorrow, but he would have appreciated to leave this dirt pile of a market in favour of something a bit more … Tolerable.

The only thing he saw though were people, people, so many people, the occasional glimpse of colour from the stands, and small side streets leading to places he did not even want to know about.

Someone bumped into his shoulder and cursed at him before hurrying away again, another accidentally shoved him forward and almost made him fall, and he pulled his cape up so nobody would step on it.

It was becoming harder and harder to breathe.

He had to get away.

No matter where, if he stayed here any longer he would go insane – he just needed a moment to breathe. Quickly, Kenjirou hurried for the shops, then decided to check out one of those side streets after all because there would likely be less people there.

After a moment, he found himself in front of a small boutique, or fabric store, or mix of both. He did not know and did not care, and the only thing that mattered was that while it was stuffed full with clothes, he could not see any people behind the window other than whom he presumed to be the owner.

It looked as cheap as they got and there was no sign indicating what it was called, but it would have to do.

When Kenjirou pushed open the wooden door, he was greeted by an endless array of colours, every one brighter than the next, decorating the walls, the tables, even the very door he had just opened. From inside, it looked both smaller and bigger, and he thought there was a slim staircase leading up at the end of the room, but there was no being certain with all the fabric blocking his vision and obscuring the scarce sources of outside light.

The supposed owner of the store he had seen through the window looked up from behind the counter with disinterested eyes. He had lightly curled, light brown hair and looked young, probably around Kenjirou’s age, if he was human. Out of the many talents his heritage granted him, immortality was not one of them, and he aged like one of them. It pissed him off.

“Welcome, can I help you— Hold on a second.” The owner stood up and leaned forward, narrowing light brown eyes at the thought of his visitor. Kenjirou felt like leaving again. “That cape … Is really expensive, I can tell. What’s someone like you doing here? Unless people have finally started hearing about our good quality standard, which I doubt. Sadly …”

“Don’t worry, I’m already as good as gone,” Kenjirou said with as much politeness in his voice as he could bother; so, not much. He only needed a moment to breathe, and while the air here was not the best either, it was miles above that crowded market.

When he turned around to look at some of the dresses that were standing around, he heard a light gasp from behind him. “You’re from the East Country.”

He was saying it like it was a bad thing, or one that had to be hidden, and it ticked him off more than it probably should have. “Well, yes,” he answered without looking at the owner. “In fact, I am here in order of Queen Aiko.”

“Incredible,” the other murmured, and when Kenjirou did turn around, annoyance was written all over his face, his forehead wrinkly, his mouth pulled into a condescending grin. He was leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest and looked a lot like Kenjirou himself felt – not wanting to be here. “We get one customer that isn’t Oikawa and it’s a preppy Shiratorizawa guy. Just my luck, isn’t it?”

The name startled him, and he blinked. He could not have heard that correctly. “Oikawa? As in, the royal family of Bluecastle?”

The owner shot him a glare that would have shut many others up immediately, but Kenjirou was too stubborn to be fazed. “Don’t call it that,” he hissed. “The city has a name, and it’s even shorter. Why is this ‘Bluecastle’ crap still around?”

“Everybody I know calls it that, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he snapped back, though completely earnest. He had never seen anybody get mad about it, not even the people from Bluecastle that he had met in the East Country.

“Then everybody you know is an idiot. We’ve stopped using that name ever since the king and queen died, and that’s common knowledge.”

“Can’t be that common if I’ve never heard of it,” Kenjirou retorted. Would that guy cut him some slack for not knowing everything about the history of the neighbouring country? Or, well, west side of the same country, though they were as split as could be. He had hardly learned anything about Aoba in his eighteen years of life, but gods forbid he made a simple mistake. “Alright, I take it back, so what. No wonder you don’t get customers with that attitude. And tidying up would help, too.”

“I’d rather have few respectful customers than many rude assholes.” Kenjirou debated telling him that that was exactly how you became bankrupt, but decided against it, as he did not feel like helping him. “If you aren’t going to buy anything, leave. I’d love to kick you out, but father would be mad, and he’s scary when there’s knives lying around, which,” he said and held up one of the tailor’s knives from the counter, “there are a lot of here.”

“So it’s your father’s shop?” He had wrongfully considered him the owner then, though he should have known somebody like him was not capable of running anything.

“Yes. And to answer your earlier question …” He slammed the knife into the wood, where it got stuck. Considering the many scratches and cracks in the counter, it had not been the first time. “Also yes. The king’s a friend of mine, actually.”

That boy? A friend of the king? Either he was toying with him or the king was a very pathetic person. “Of course. Next thing you’re telling me is you know the leader of the noctua personally.”

“Yes, actually. I do. I did.”

A grave atmosphere settled over them all of a sudden, and for once in his life, Kenjirou wishes he had not brought that up. The decree to allow the hunt on them after what could only have been described as a genocide was one of the only things he had ever disagreed with the queen upon, and he knew exactly that the ones suffering the most were those who had had to watch their friends and acquaintances die. He had never personally known a noctua, but Prince Wakatoshi had, and he had always spoken fondly of them.

It had merely been two months since the war. Of course the wounds would not have healed yet.

“Sorry,” he stumbled out, suddenly feeling much, much smaller than before.

“It’s nothing.” The other smiled, but it did not reach his eyes. “I really am friends with the king though. Or, well, he comes into the shop and dumps his troubles on me. Only his closest friends know, though, so no customer surge for us. Alas, the fate of us Yahabas … We never sold well in this family …”

“Really? The great Warrior King, whining?” It did not match up with how he had imagined him at all. He knew he was young, only a year older than him, and skilled with the sword, but the version of him in his head was someone infallible and ruthless, not a complaining teenager.

“Oh, he’s really good at whining,” the boy – Yahaba – said and laughed. “Though if I were him, I’d probably do the same. His council’s making it really hard for him, poor guy.”

In no known universe would he have had considered Warrior King Oikawa Tooru a ‘poor guy’. Maybe it was because his own queen adhered to the standards he held royalty to extremely well. Now that he knew otherwise, he was wondering whether Oikawa was scared of her. Heck, Kenjirou was scared of her sometimes.

“So I guess that reputation is all just talk,” he mused, looking around the shop. Why would a king come here in the first place?

Yahaba hummed and cocked his head. “Maybe. Maybe not. Depends on which part. Somehow people seem to think he’s some sort of warlord, but he’s just as peaceful as his sister was. Has it a lot more difficult, though. But that whole Warrior King thing … Let’s just say I wouldn’t want to duel him. He’s not one of those guys who sit back and let others do the work, that’s where the name comes from. It makes him sound like an ass though. Don’t get me wrong, he totally can be, but it’s mostly harmless …” He trailed off and his gaze rose to Kenjirou’s, eyes a bit widened, as if curious. “What’s it like at your court?”

“I can’t talk a lot about Queen Aiko, but Prince Wakatoshi is a good person. I’m technically her secretary, but I spend more time with him, and I really admire him.” The queen would certainly still live long, the elemental blood strong in her veins, but he still found himself wondering sometimes what it would have been like to live under the rule of the prince. Many things would have certainly been different.

“Shiratorizawa still sucks,” the other muttered under his breath, not quietly enough for it to escape Kenjirou’s attention. Great, just when he had thought they were getting along, he had to be a prick again.

“Blue— Aoba sucks too,” he shot back. “Trust me, I’m not here because I want to. If it was going according to me, I wouldn’t have come here in the first place. It’s so … Crowded and dirty, and everyone is human.”

“Not everyone,” Yahaba corrected him. “And you’re making that sound like a bad thing. I’d rather live in a crowded, dirty city than one that’s super strict and unfair to its inhabitants.”

“Shiratorizawa isn’t unfair.” Kenjirou furrowed his eyebrows.

“Not to you guys who work for the crown, sure. But I’ve heard the stories, you know …”

He genuinely had no idea what Yahaba was talking about. Propaganda? Perhaps they told them lies about their capital or it was simply a misinformation, just like he had not known about the Bluecastle problem.

“Do you even know the city?”

“Do you even know this one?” Yahaba retorted.

“Enough to know I don’t like it,” Kenjirou grumbled, but had to admit he had a point. “Unless you can tell me how to get to the castle, because I’m really not up to getting trampled at that market again.”

He snorted. “Aw, is the poor little half-fae not used to life in an actual city? That’s what happens when you stay on court all the time.”

“Okay, first of all, I don’t do that, and second, how did you know I’m half fae?”

Yahaba did not even blink before pointing at his ears, and it took him aback quite a bit – yes, they were a bit pointier than human ones, but not by much. Definitely not the ears of pure-blooded fae or fire elementals. Either that guy had paid a frankly creepy amount of attention or he had extremely good eyesight. Then again, he was working in a boutique, and from what it seemed like he knew how to sew or at least use the tailor’s tools, so the second was rather likely.

“Anyway, I do know a shortcut,” he said with that sly grin playing on his lips again. “But why would I tell you? We’re not friends. I don’t even know your name.”

“Shirabu Kenjirou.” He had no patience for this right now. If he could avoid that damn crowd again, he would, and no prickly human would stop him. “Just tell me. This is important for your kingdom too.”

Yahaba sighed and shrugged. “I suppose so. Guess I don’t have much of a choice …” He stood up for the first time since Kenjirou had come here and he had to acknowledge, begrudgingly so, that he was taller than him. Usually he did not care much about that, but it ticked him off about Yahaba specifically. “Follow my lead.”

“So that you’ll lead me to a dead end and ditch me there?” Kenjirou asked and crossed his arms. “Or you’ll rob me, gods know you need it.”

“Oh! Good idea!” Yahaba replied and had the audacity to smirk at him, very smugly so. It was an expression that begged to be punched, but he was on a mission here, and getting into a brawl with the son of a shop owner would deter from his task as well as possibly get him into trouble. “But I have better things to do than stealing from Shiratorizawa’s queen’s little servants. Too much dignity for that, too.”

“You son of a bitch.”

“Yours truly.” He laughed, a sound that was both obnoxious as all hell and kind of cute, with his voice higher pitched than when speaking as if he was a little child. “I’m Yahaba Shigeru, professional asshole. Always nice to meet people of the same profession.”

Kenjirou would not have considered himself a particularly nice person, but what Yahaba seemed to see as him being a fellow asshole consisted mostly of pride. He supposed he could take pride in being mean to people who deserved it, too, in some twisted way, which probably made him an asshole indeed.

Still, he did not want to _agree_ with this boy either.

“Just show me how to get to the castle and maybe you'll get promoted.”

Yahaba laughed again, but this time he thought he could pick up a bit of a warning in there. The difference in tone was marginal, a human would have likely not picked it up at all, so he had no reason to believe it was a simple intimdation tactic or an attempt to toy with him. “Be careful, my little asshole friend. Oikawa isn’t a bad person, but I wouldn’t try ridiculing him either. If I were you, I’d rather not talk down to him.”

“I wasn’t planning to,” Kenjirou argued earnestly. “I’m not stupid. He’s royalty. You,” he paused and gave Yahaba the smallest of smiles he could manage, “are just the son of some guy who owns a boutique.”

“That’s true,” he responded with a shrug. “But be careful that attitude won’t come back to bite you later. There’s a guy I know, a knight on the royal guard, who made the exact same mistake.”

He did not particularly care where that person had ended up, as he himself knew how to behave if he needed to. Most of Shiratorizawa’s secretaries and others who worked on the court were young, usually not over 25, but they had good manners, most of the time, and they certainly knew how to treat royalty. It was their whole damn job after all. “What do you think I am?”

“A prick, mostly.” Yahaba sighed and went for the door, pushing the heavy, bright pink dress dangling down from it out of the way to open it. “But you know …”

He turned around to him and smiled, and it looked so genuine Kenjirou almost took a step back in surprise. The light falling in from outside illuminated him in a way that made him seem almost ethereal, despite being human, like some guardian angel who had been sent by Liora, goddess of life, to stop him from making bad life choices.

Somehow, Kenjirou got the feeling this would not be their last meeting.

“That has its own kind of charm, I guess.”

**Author's Note:**

> just don't tell Yahaba that, Shirabu. he's gonna laugh at you.
> 
> tumblr: akaashi-tooru.tumblr.com/ talk to me about Yahashira plea s e


End file.
